


again, and again, and once more

by TeelLilies



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, How many times can you fall in love with the same person?, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Immortal Philza AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, kind of?, myct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29695362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeelLilies/pseuds/TeelLilies
Summary: Phil owns more than a few, incredibly valuable things
Relationships: Technoblade/Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 311





	again, and again, and once more

**Author's Note:**

> the only thing I have to say for myself is uh, blame the server because this was definitely not my original idea. (Y'all know who you are)

_ Phil has a fine golden signet ring. It’s nicer than anything he owns, a solid ruby nearly the size of a grape. The gaudy letter B stamped into the face of an otherwise beautiful gem like a blemish, inset with diamonds and more engraving than would ever be needed for such a small surface. The whole thing is an assault on the brain.  _

Like how cologne always rested heavy in his senses, anything scented like that did. He could taste it, heady on his tongue, mixing into the lingering taste of red wine. 

Their romp was stolen away in the dark, always hidden behind closed doors or tight lips. Phil had never been one for the high life but he made an exception for one man. Though he rarely ever accepted the gifts pushed at him. It wasn’t like they would have lasted him anyways. He had never been one for particularly luxury clothing, it would be no exception when those things were gifted to him. 

“I’m glad you’re here. I was getting bored with my guests.” A familiar voice purred against him, the cadence was light, airy in a way that matched the breeze pulling at his hair. Phil couldn’t help but offer a low laugh in return, it lingered in his throat like the crisp of the evening air lingered against his skin. 

“You act like I’m one of your billionaires.” He replied, unable to stop himself from relaxing into the familiar hand on his waist, curving around to his back. It hurt to know that Billiam wouldn’t want anyone else to know what they had going on, but he was there nonetheless. Because not being with him hurt worse. 

Even as he tipped his head to look at his companion, taking in the void whispered behind Sir Billiam’s eyes, the red tinge climbing up the side of his throat. It was something not many would notice, at least not many that didn’t know. They wouldn’t clock the emptiness he had watched creep in. It was something he hadn’t seen before, an odd hunger that seemed to spread from Billiam in a way that nothing had possessed him before, in all the times Phil saw him. 

It even showed in how Phil allowed himself to be crowded against the garden rail, watching the fabric of his lover’s coat ripple in the light that streamed from ballroom windows. He could only yield into it, setting aside his glass of wine as he traced his hands up, sliding over fine material to drape against Billiam. 

“What can I say Philza, you’re entertaining.” Billiam finally spoke again, asserting himself into Phil’s space. 

He could only laugh again, he could only wish he could sate the ache that had settled deep into his chest. The ache that came from knowing this Techno would never let him in, that he couldn’t love this one like the others. 

But it was okay, he would be okay, and he would wait while Billiam lived his days out. He would carve out what time he could steal between the moonlight and the roses and the music he could hear in the distance. 

The finery was so foreign to him even then, it always seemed like Techno was different, of course, but the lavish material under his fingers was new. It seemed to catch against callous, another reminder of the real disparity between them. He had hundreds of years of work in his hands, and the fingertips that crept their way up his throat were deceptively soft. 

For a moment he allowed himself to be lost in it, to take in the moment for what it was. A scandal in a back garden, a tall body pressed along his own and a warm voice in his ear. He wanted to wrap his wings around Techno, remind him of who he was, of who he had been every time. But there was nowhere else to go. It wasn’t like he could steal Billiam away and change him. Not when something else had crept in on Billiam’s mind. 

He  _ wasn’t _ Techno… Phil knew that, god he knew that like he knew there was air in his lungs and knew that there would be hundreds of times to get this  _ right _ . But that didn’t mean he had to like it. And it sure as fuck didn’t mean he could just walk away from Techno, not when there was even a sliver of a chance he would see the man he loved under the riches and godawful cologne. 

And yet Phil could almost believe, when a warm laugh rolled against his skin, and strong hands framed against his waist. He could almost trick himself into believing. 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll make a millionaire out of you yet.” The words oozed over him, discordant compared to so many declarations of love in the past. But for Billiam? It was almost sweet, like the damn cologne that was giving him a headache as he allowed the other man to kiss him. 

That much was still somewhat the same, Billiam was confident, perhaps overly so. Just a kiss was enough to send Phil deeper into the other man’s arms. For a few moments he could forget about the disdain, about everything else and simply surrender himself to the quiet affection. The night swelled around him and he could allow himself to relax. 

Relaxation never lasted long with Billiam. Not when he started to slip. Phil watched it happen, he’d seen the slide beginning as soon as he met this Techno, he’d heard it in his voice, watched his odd mannerisms. And he’d noted every time his love seemed to be pulled like a puppet, like something had gotten to him before Phil had. 

In Billiam’s final days it was the worst it had ever been. Phil watched on, tired, as he began to spiral, as his mind began to unravel properly. He could only do so much, could only steal Billiam away so many times to take the tall man’s face in his hands and calm him. It was an odd mockery of the things Phil was used to, vulnerable moments, quiet stolen in times of strife. He could see the moment when Techno was finally gone, when Billiam slipped over the edge. 

And it was only a week before Phil heard of his fate, and forced himself to move on. He didn’t need to linger, stay longer in a hostile place that had consumed a man he had loved so many times, and he would love so many times after that.

_ He owns a ragged bandana. It’s torn on one edge and still smells like heat and sand if you press your nose close to it. The fabric wore soft a long time ago, and the pattern is only a shadow of what it was years ago.  _

And it was once covered in blood, pressed to a wound in Phil’s arm as woodsmoke swarmed around his head. 

“I’m fine Sherman.” Phil tried to soothe, amusement coloring his words, ever so faint. Techno always worried too much about him, always ended up stuck on the smallest things. Even when there was dirt under his nails and the desert stretched out around them for miles. 

“You’re gonna get a damn infection like this.” The other man muttered, a scowl flitting across grizzled features.

He had caught Techno late, this time, he was older, tired. Something had worn him down beyond his years. And yet he was still kicking, ever the same, ever steady. 

The endless expanse of the desert wasn’t that far off from the tundra in looks, but god it was hot during the days. Between dark wings that absorbed the sun, and his penchant for dark clothes, Phil had always found himself excited for nightfall. The stars wheeled overhead, ever the same against the endless backdrop of night.

Sherman was  _ new  _ in such a good way. He was wild and tempered by time, all grit and snarl and the kind of deadpan charm that Phil found himself stumbling for more than he should have. He carried the smell of gunpowder and dust and adventure clung to him like a second skin. 

Phil had fallen immediately. While he was never good with a handgun he was happy to let Sherman teach him. He spent too much time leaning back against a broad chest, watching down the barrel of a gun and listening to the rumble of an explanation against the back of his head. He may have always preferred traditional weapons but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t let Sherman teach him how to shoot every day for the rest of his life. 

“You worry too much.” Phil soothed, a warm smile gracing his face as he leaned in to push a kiss against the other man’s forehead. Techno always did, it was something Phil had gotten used to over the centuries. The way Techno fucking  _ looked  _ at him in a way that betrayed what he was thinking, every time without fail. His tells may have well been signs plastered across his face, for as well as Phil knew him. 

He knew what it looked like when Techno worried enough that it verged into annoyance. What it looked like when he just wanted Phil to agree and allow himself to be taken care of. Phil could never help himself when it came to fighting Techno on those occasions. It was too easy to tug at him until Phil was holding back laughter like a disobedient child. 

He didn’t push Sherman too much that time, allowing the other man to bandage him up before he settled down. The way the taller man curled around him was ever familiar, the press of a strong frame against him, the way he could fold his wing around Techno in return when he sank into his companion’s side. Sherman wrapped around him like he could protect Phil from the rest of the world, like his presence was enough to scare off anything that may have caused either of them harm. 

“You’re always so warm.” He sighed, turning to push his face against Sherman’s collar. The other man huffed faintly, and Phil felt his grip tighten as he took in the other man. The way he sat was different, but still held some of the same mannerisms. Especially in the way he pulled Phil closer against himself. 

“You say that like you’re not a living icicle.” Sherman shook his head, resting his chin atop Phil’s head and letting himself relax. Phil could feel the tension drain out of the other man, feel the way Sherman traced faint circles against his hip where his hand rested. 

Phil mustered a low, rolling laugh at that, allowing himself to relax completely as he watched the fire. 

He would burry Sherman eventually, he knew that much. It happened with almost all of them. Except Billiam of course, none of his inner circle even knew Phil existed. He’d simply had to move on from marble halls and a deep forest before he could let himself hang around. 

He’d seen some good places to do it in the time he’d spent travelling with Sherman… Places to bury him that was. It was a bad habit, looking at every nice desert location and wondering if he would be going there with a body on a horse to lay his love to rest like he had so many times before. 

At least there wouldn’t be permafrost that time…

_ Phil wears emerald earrings, they’re delicate yet they’ve easily survived more fights than he would like to count. They’re still scratchless, not professionally crafted, but all the more valuable because of it. Made not by a craftsman but a desperate man, Phil treasures them. _

As much as he treasured the memories of an echoing stronghold. Warm laughter stolen between the moments where Phil had to hold his breath and pray for Techno’s safety. Every engine that roared from overhead, and every sight of someone outside of their circle set him on edge. But he remained, ever present at Techno’s side as they went about their lives. 

With each time he re-learned Techno, it got easier and easier to fall into step with someone he knew so well. Within weeks of reuniting, even if Techno’s walls were still up, they had fallen into fighting like a unit. Phil could tell when Techno needed a hand with what he was doing, and he knew when the other man just needed to allow himself some quiet. 

The cold and the endless waste would always be familiar to him, the way Techno watched bands of light swimming across the sky. It was an odd phenomenon but one they always watched together. Phil would never pass up evenings in the frigid cold, wishing he could wrap his arms around Techno and keep both of them warm in his wings. But like always, he knew not to rush his friend. No matter how much he wanted to fall back into old habits again and again and again. 

The empire wouldn’t last though, and as time drew on and on, Phil found himself holding his breath more. He waited for the day he would watch Techno fall in a fight, waited for the end of their time together, waited for something to go wrong. But it never did. Time stretched on and once things fell in to ruin… well there wasn’t much reason to stay around was there?

  
  


Techno needed space. Phil knew that better than anyone, it wasn’t hard to see, in how disconnected he seemed to get when they hung up their arms and finally left their stronghold. 

He savored the way Techno’s fingers dug into the back of his coat when they said goodbye, took in the smell of cold he’d become so familiar with, and left.

For too long he wondered if that would be the last time he saw Techno that time, if he would wake up to the news that one passed without him. Perhaps that was why hearing from Wilbur jarred him so much. Both his son and the man he loved had found respite in the same place, and yet something was wrong. 

Wrong enough to send him spiraling, wrong enough to tear his wings from his back and his son from his arms, wrong enough to send him to an underground bunker and into the arms of a man he hadn’t seen in years. 

Techno picked things up without missing a beat. He was tired, in a way that Phil had yet to see, already jaded by what he had been through, Phil could only hope they would be able to reconnect.

It wasn’t easy but they managed. Eventually stilted conversation became talks over a fire, became midnight rendezvous when Phil was housebound.

More then than ever, Techno was a north wind, he came and went as he pleased and took Phil’s goddamn breath with him. He was fiery and larger than life and it was exactly the way Phil loved him. 

And god did he love him, more than ever. He watched Techno hurt, watched everyone turn on him, and listened to Techno in his moments of vulnerability. 

He’d let the other man press the earring and a compass into his hands, standing in a newly built cabin. While every shred of Techno’s body language just begged him to be  _ there _ when nobody else was, when all Phil heard from Techno was just how much he wanted the older man to stay. It was written into his facial expression, the way his hands wrapped around Phil’s and how long he’d held the other man’s eyes. It was almost a silent promise, that if they could figure it out then dammit they could do anything.

They had run an empire after all, and Phil had already joined Techno for one retirement. Another certainly wasn’t a stretch. 

Eventually he had fallen back into Techno’s life properly, escaping those that had captured him and running right back to the welcoming cold and Techno’s opening arms. Like putting on an old, comfortable pair of boots, Phil acquainted himself to Techno’s new life like it was nothing. There was always something to be done, and when days drew to a close he could retreat to bed with the man he loved, listening to Techno’s heart beat through the night until he fell asleep himself. 

_ Phil owns a walking stick. It’s simple, new. Likely not meant for extended use. And a book, cracked spine, creased pages, well loved.  _

And he leans on it heavily as he makes his way up the hill. A blanket tossed over his arm. 

It isn’t his fault that he busted his knee while working on his newest project, and it definitely isn’t going to stop him from making the familiar hike. 

Even in the summer the air is crisp, filling his lungs with cold and the smell of damp greens as he walks. Silently he chastizes himself for his past choices, but alas he continues. 

Cresting the hill makes it all worth it. A tiny valley lays below him, the leaning remains of two cabins and another, unidentifiable structure shamble finally into view. And Phil allows himself to relax as he puts his weight back on his good knee. 

The blanket hanging off of his arm tugs against the breeze as he takes the sight in, the way the sun rises over long-untouched snowdrifts. Fences have long since been buried, structures beginning to cave in. 

“It’s been too long Techno.”

_ And yet, somehow not long enough. _

He can hear Techno’s voice, welcoming him home, hear the shift of floorboards as the taller man moved across their floor to greet him. 

Every year Phil returned, he expected to find the cabins finally caved in. But they had been built well, which… well, was to be expected. For the time being though he has a task, and finally pulls his eyes from what was once his home to instead rest on the sword. 

The sword forced deep into the earth, and the crown still balanced on the crossguard. It’s tarnished, but the netherite still practically glows against the stiff grass. And Phil takes the sight in as he spreads out his blanket and moves to sit. 

“Happy birthday, love of mine.” He finally hums, taking in another lungful of the bright air all around him, before he cracks his book open. 

“Now, where did we last we left off?”


End file.
